


cylch y Tylwyth Teg

by Dialects_and_Costumes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Faerie rings, I am a Master of Secret Codes, Magic, canon-compliant injury, everything else is a big ol' world of my creation, simply look at the first letter of each paragraph, to discover the secret message
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24511054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialects_and_Costumes/pseuds/Dialects_and_Costumes
Summary: Jaime does not stumble onto a faerie ring. He steps into one knowing very well he is going to die.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 32
Kudos: 102





	cylch y Tylwyth Teg

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brynnmck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynnmck/gifts).



> HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY to one of the sweetest people in the J/B fandom and on the PLANET. 
> 
> I can't magically make a Gwen!faerie ring appear in your yard for your birthday, so I decided to do the next best thing!
> 
> Title is Welsh for Faerie Ring (I am oh, so clever at creating titles :P )

Hidden in deepest parts of Evenstar Forest, the last Faerie of Tarth and likely of all Westeros danced around her lonely elm tree. The forest was as old as recorded time could measure, and every leaf, branch, and root of its borders thrummed with a deep magic that fed into the lifeblood of all Westeros. Once, small families of the Fair Folk had protected the trees, the small ponds, even the very air of Evenstar Forest. But just as Men had slowly attacked and threatened the lives of Brienne’s family, so too had they whittled away at the remaining magic they found to be so dangerous in every corner of Evenstar.

And yet, despite her eons of loss, Brienne still danced. Her graceful dips and twirls fed magic from her veins into the elm at the heart of the forest, and she could feel it stretch through the roots into the earth. Every so often, her magic would touch a brownie or a sylph, giving them a spark of the magic that kept them all alive, and Brienne would know she mustn’t give up her workings. Her dances kept the forest alive. She knew she would never stop weeping for her lost family, but she would also never abandon her duty to the Forest and to her elm tree.

Perhaps it was foolish of her to believe she would never again be confronted with the world of Men, and perhaps it was that naïve thinking that drew the mortal man towards her circle. The thoughts of a faerie are powerful things. Brienne had no time to think about what had brought this mortal into her world before he was hovering on the edge of her circle. She knew she would remain unseen as long as he stayed outside of her ring of power, so her wings fluttered as she flew towards him, peering into his face. It was a handsome one, by mortal standards. His features were sharp, despite the fatigue she saw lining his mouth, and his eyes were as unearthly a color as hers. Where Brienne’s eyes drank in the sky and the seas and the rivers that bordered her forest, the Man’s eyes were every green contained in its trees and ivy and moss. He was certainly human, judging from his haggard face (no faerie, not even her brother when he was dragged away by the Cold Iron, could ever be described as haggard), and by the smell of blood that reached Brienne’s nose. She had no time to find the source of that foul scent before she saw the mortal square his shoulders determinedly.

“Please let this work,” she heard him mutter, and her eyes widened as he stepped into the circle. The music of her people stopped as her magic zeroed in on a new purpose, and she hid behind her tree, her wings fluttering nervously. The elm was large enough to hide her long limbs, made strong and graceful like the elm as they had grown ancient together. The mortal would be able to see her now that he had stepped across the ring of mushrooms. Brienne was startled by the look of satisfaction on his face, a certainty in the face of death. The last time she had seen such devastating resignation was the last moment her father had been corporeal before her.

“You have stepped into a Faerie Ring,” she called out, feeling her magic flow into her voice. This was a ritual that could not be denied, now that a mortal had stepped into the power of the Fair Folk. The rich timbre echoed in the confines of her circle, and the man’s eyes held a fearsome hope in them. Brienne hated it.

“Believe me, fair Lady, I know.” Brienne covered her mouth to suppress an un-magical snort. No faerie had ever been described as _a fair lady_ before. They were otherworldly, not meant for mortals to believe beautiful, for the protection of both their kind. She was not to be seen as a delicate mortal maiden for him to protect. “I intend for this to be my end, and I ask that you take my life as a willing offering to your power.” His voice was filled with pain, and Brienne placed her palms on the elm, its ancient strength rooted deep into her blood and her bones a reminder of her strength. Brienne had always drawn strength from her tree, but now it seemed a prison, tying her to her duty as the keeper and protector of the forest. Still, she dug her fingers into the bark before replying.

“I do not bend to the whim of mortals.” She declared, finally stepping through the tree to confront the stranger. She let the bark and moss of the tree cover her limbs, armoring her with them as she stood tall above him. “I will take what I see fit, human.” She spat the words at the man, suddenly furious that he would try to force her hand into killing.

Reeling back, the human gasped as he took in her appearance. “Good gods above, are you a _troll_? I thought faeries guarded these rings, not witches.” He groaned, tucking his arm close to his chest, cradling it with a mulish look on his face. “Damn it all to the seven hells, I was planning on my death being at the hand of a fair maiden, not _you._ ” Brienne glared down at him, her fury plain to see in her eyes. This man had stepped into her power with every intent for her to murder him, and he was upset she wasn’t his ideal murderer?

“There are no trolls in the forest, Human. Just me.” He glared back at her, even as an edge of terror and uncertainty tightened his mouth. As he stood and Brienne hovered, rain began to drip down through the branches of her elm tree. The human adjusted his arm to shield it from the rain, drawing Brienne’s eyes. She inhaled sharply as she saw the Man was missing his hand, and he sneered at her response.

“Have you never taken the life of a cripple, witch? Does your faerie magic prevent you from ending my life simply because I lack my hand?” He shivered as the rain soaked his hair and trickled down his neck to pool under his jerkin.

“Do you take me for a fool, human?” Brienne responded, the power in her voice shaking more rain from the branches. “I _will_ _not_ become a murderer of Men simply because you wish it. I operate with honor.” Her eyes were cold as she observed him flinch. “But what would a human like you know of that?”

As soon as she had said it, Brienne regretted the harsh words. The mortal’s eyes burned wild as he took a threatening step towards her, letting go of his injured stump, blood trickling from the hastily wrapped bandage.

“You don’t know a thing about me, witch. Honor? You wish to speak of _honor?_ ” He laughed mirthlessly, the sound bordering on a sob as the rain pelted them both. “I swore with honor to my King. I swore with honor to my people, to _innocents_. I swore to be obedient to both, and when the King ordered me to defy my honor and murder them all, I slid my sword into his back.” His voice was brittle with emotion, and he laughed sharply again at the horror on Brienne’s face. “It was ridiculously easy, you really should try it.” The human shook with rage and hysteria. “My father’s men dragged me away to the forest, and one of them wanted to find a witch like you to drag back to the capitol. ‘Your father will make her cast a spell on the city, they’ll cheer for the Kingslayer!’. I refused to do something so craven, and for that my own _bannermen_ took my hand, leaving me for dead. But what could a mere mortal like me know of _honor?_ ”

Brienne’s wings buzzed in agitation at her side as the mortal sank to the ground, his knees squelching in the drenched moss and grass. As his fingers sank into the mud, she could feel the thrum of her magic compelling her to action. Brienne closed her eyes, determined to weave it away from death and into life. “Those who come into my circle must lose something, human.” Her words were soft, creating a gentle melody with the rain pattering the leaves and the forest floor. “You have already lost too much. Go and live. I will not take a life already so bereft.” She felt the tugging to action fade as she spoke, and she sighed softly in relief at her success. She would not be forced to kill the mortal.

Rain streaked away dirt from the man’s face as he looked up at her. “ _Why_ won’t you kill me?” He begged.

“You ask me to do that which you were unable to do.” Brienne lowered herself to grasp the man’s arms and tenderly bring him back to his feet. Her hands were strong, but gentle. “You ask me to murder an innocent.” The mortal’s head hung once more with shame and he leaned into her shoulder, weeping. As the rain slowed into a drizzle, so did the human’s tears. She pulled away from him, taking his remaining hand in his, guiding him to the edge of her circle of mushrooms.

“Now you must go and live. _This_ is the sacrifice I demand of you, mortal.” As she spoke the words, Brienne let go of his hand, stepping away as he took in the ring of mushrooms at his feet. He took a careful step, standing outside of the magic sphere once more.

Nearly quiet enough to be missed in the sounds of the forest, the human murmured a reply. “Jaime. My name is Jaime.”

\---

Mortals passed the time with marking the seasons, calling them years and months, but Brienne’s life had only ever been measured by the changing of the moon and how many existed in between her losses. It had been countless moons since she had last seen her father and her mother. Her sisters had been gone for at least a thousand moons, and her brother had been gone for seven hundred and twenty cycles of the orb that shone down through a canopy of stars. Now, she counted the moons since she had last seen the human- _Jaime._ He had been gone for a dozen moons, and Brienne wished she could venture beyond her elm to see if he had stayed alive as she had bid him. She had never manipulated her magic as she had for him, and she did not know if she would be able to feel the magic continuing to keep him alive or not. She longed for a glimpse of his face, more than she had longed for anything in all her moons of living in the shadow of the elm. Thoughts of Jaime filled every moment, until the next full moon shone down on her, and a dread seeped into her skin.

_Cold Iron._

Keening as she dropped to the forest floor, Brienne searched the outer limits of her vision wildly as she felt the evil metal drawing strength from her body. It felt like it was lumbering towards her, and she could hear a faint crashing through the trees. “No…. no, no no, no!” she moaned, curling around the sickness roiling through her body. Sweat poured from her temple, and she scrabbled back to lean against her elm tree. The sound of crushed branches were soon replaced with the unmistakable roars of a bear, rabid and wounded by the sound. She whimpered, curling against the trunk of her tree as it lumbered into her view. A manmade collar, the clear source of her distress, was around the poor creature’s emaciated throat, and it bellowed its pain for the whole forest to hear. She shuddered as the bear drew closer and closer to her tree. Breaking through the pounding at her temples was suddenly an unmistakable human voice, hollering at the bear. Brienne struggled to lift her head, and she gasped as Jaime burst through the trees to stand between her circle and the creature.

Yelling seemed to only distract the bear for a moment, and he continued to roar as he blundered towards Brienne’s tree. Jaime brandished a spear tipped with bronze, and the bear let out a pitiful cry of protest. Brienne saw Jaime’s shoulders slump at the weak sound, but he stood his ground. “Get back!” he hollered, prodding the animal once more with his spear, and the bear let out another mournful growl before staggering away from Brienne’s tree. Jaime turned to Brienne’s circle, unable to see her, eyes searching. He cursed, shaking his head, and Brienne watched in fascination as he began circling the tree. She heard him murmuring to himself as her shaking subsided. The bear was taking the cold iron away from her, and the elm’s strength began to flow into her once more. As her awareness returned, she could hear Jaime was counting down aloud each time he completed a circle around her faerie ring.

“One more.” He muttered, almost jogging around the circle as Brienne pushed away from the elm, her wings twitching to try and help her regain her footing. Before she was fully standing, Jaime took a step into the ring. “Gods above, you are real. I didn’t just imagine you.” Jaime blurted as he took her in once more.

“Unless you expected your _fair maiden_ , of course I’m real.” Brienne’s words were harsh with her weakness, and she scowled at the mortal. “ _Why_ are you here? Do you mean to trick me into revoking my magic?”

As Brienne managed to straighten to her full height, Jaime arched his brow. “Do I look like someone still wishing to die, witch?”

“Rarely does a human make the same mistake to step into my ring twice.” She retorted, letting her wings flutter out in agitation, sweat still pooled on her brow and at her throat. “And seeing as I am clearly no witch, you might refer to me by my name. I am called Brienne.” Jaime softened slightly, fully taking in the effect the Cold Iron had wrecked on her as she struggled to keep her balance.

“Even if I did still wish to die, I’m sure you saw me circling your tree. Stop grumbling at me and examine yourself. Does your magic compel you to take anything from me?” Brienne opened her mouth as if to argue, but Jaime’s words rang true, annoyingly. There was no compulsion demanding Brienne kill him, and the bear was far enough away for her to blame it on the Cold Iron.

“If what you say is true, then why are you _here?_ ” she demanded, her hands tensed as if to claw at him. She knew _he_ carried no Cold Iron with him to harm her, but she had not lived countless generations without seeing the harm men could bring down upon both her world and theirs. Jaime frowned at Brienne before beginning to pace, visibly agitated.

“No man has ever been known to survive entering a faerie ring!” He suddenly exclaimed, the words bursting out. “Why did you spare me? What did you _do_ to me?” Jaime’s eyes were wild, and Brienne’s breathing was sharp as she realized just how afraid he was at the unknown she represented.

Considering the poor mortal man before her, Brienne’s wings buzzed at her side, frowning at him. Jaime’s outburst was clearly _part_ of why he was here, and she decided to humor his demanding questions. “What I demanded of you was more sacrifice than your life would have been.” Jaime let out a pained and humorless laugh at her answer. Brienne gulped in a breath of fresh air, closing her eyes. “I… I am not unaccustomed to loss.” Her voice was soft, not a trace of her ethereal magic in it. She let her wings settle at her side as she stood before Jaime. “My mother gave up her life-spirit to save our elm from dragon-fire. My father could not tolerate losing her and let his essence fade into nothingness to be with her once more. My sisters, before their wings had dried, were lured away by teasing boys in a village that crumbled to dust many moons ago.” Brienne could feel tears beginning to slide down her cheeks, shuddering at the all-too-recent memory of the bear. “And when my brother went to save them, he was struck down with Cold Iron.” Her eyes shone with her tears. "I will not be responsible for more loss in this world."

Relief seemed to take the edge off Jaime’s fear, and Brienne thought for a moment she saw his free hand twitch as if to reach for her tears and brush them away. “You have lost your entire family, and you felt no need to revenge yourself on the first man you saw?” His words were soft with awe.

“Every day I dance at the feet of my elm for my sisters, for my brothers, and for my mother and father. I have no need for revenge, Jaime.” When the fear left his eyes entirely, Brienne felt as if she was under a spell of his making. Jaime’s face was young beyond the pain and the fear, and it was glorious with the youthful innocence his pain had shielded in their first impression. Brienne’s heart and wings both began to flutter as Jaime continued to look at her in amazement. She suddenly had a memory of her mother and father laughing at one another as they danced around the elm when it had been young, when Brienne would sit and tap her toes in the moss, her wings stretched out to dry. Her father would turn the dance into a chase, and she remembered him looking at her mother like this when she would allow him to catch her. She felt her face flush as she remembered her parents’ loving embrace, and it was a moment of madness that made her meet Jaime’s gaze before he stepped toward her and reached out his hand.

Dreams and memories faded as Brienne took his offered hand, and drew her free hand up to stroke his cheek, feeling the unfamiliar texture of his very human beard. The marvel continued to overtake the aching in his eyes, and Brienne wondered what would happen to the tension in his shoulders and the hunch in his spine if he had been borne a faerie and she had been able to protect him all of their lives, and soon she wasn’t able to wonder anything at all because Jaime was _kissing_ her. He pressed himself up on his toes to gift her with a slow and chaste kiss. It was an entirely new offering, this kiss from Jaime, and Brienne felt an ancient and terrifying magic stirring in her veins. It was a magic that demanded she pull the air from his lips, tear his soul asunder, and leave the world no memory of the mortal who offered the Fae this gift. She gasped sharply as she resisted the pull of her magic, and gave into the much more enticing magic Jaime cast on them both, this human magic of lips and sighs. Her mouth pressed back down into his, and Jaime let out a beautiful, wordless murmur as their fingers entwined. Jaime pulled away slowly, the tension in his shoulders fading. She brushed a stray lock of hair away from his eyes, daring to ask him one last time, “Why are you here, Jaime?”

“I dreamed of you.”

\--

Brienne had wept for each loss in her life. Her tears had seeped into the earth-blood of the elm, and it grew from her strength and from her pain both. She had never wept as bitterly as she had when Jaime had eventually pulled away to leave her alone in her forest. She wept as she recalled the tension returning to his body, she wept as she remembered him begging her to trust him, she wept and wept as her dreams brought forth the memory of Jaime kneeling at her feet in supplication and digging his fingers into the earth beneath her feet. _There is no chance of happiness with a mortal_ , she chastised herself when the tears would run out. No chance of happiness, and yet she yearned to make that choice.

Love, for it could not be denied she loved Jaime as her mother had loved her father, had never been a concept Brienne had entertained for herself. She had resigned herself long ago to never being able to leave the circle around the elm when her brother had died, and no faerie had come to visit her tree since she had squelched the hobgoblin Hyle as a warning to those who wished to take it for themselves. Her people had been sparse even before her sisters and her brother and her parents had left her. Now, it was a forgone conclusion that she would exist only to fade as the last of her people. Love was now something Brienne hungered for as she spun listlessly through the mushrooms. She had tasted it with Jaime’s kiss, and she had craved nothing but his love since he had pulled away and left, the earth of her elm tree still clutched in his hands.

Eventually, Brienne’s tears dried. The hunger remained, but she was exhausted with crying and there had been no rain to quench her thirst since Jaime had first taken a desperate step into her ring. The day her tears had stopped, Brienne had squared her shoulders and resigned herself to an eternity of joyless dancing with the ancient and uncaring spirit of the tree as her only company.

Almost as soon as Brienne had convinced herself she could spend eternity alone in the safety of her elm, her magic appeared to have other ideas. An enchanted itching starting to tug at her feet, as if it was pulling her to step from her mushroom ring. She had not lived through countless moons to ever ignore the compelling pull of magic, and it was enough to coerce her out of her fog of loneliness. She frowned down at her feet, and stared into the terrifying unknown of the forest surrounding her elm tree. What faerie had ever abandoned their tree, leaving it alone to go exploring? In all the stories her father had passed down to her, Brienne had only ever been told one thing: _we do not leave the tree to fend for itself._ Before Brienne had met her poor, broken mortal man, she would have never have considered venturing out into the forest. Now, she felt a surge of daring similar to the courage of Jaime’s first steps into her ring as she considered leaving it.

No moon shone down the night Brienne finally decided to step outside of her circle for the first time in her life. She wasn’t going to spend eternity ignoring the itch in her feet, even if it meant the death of her tree and the end of her life. She took a step outside of the magic ring, and felt a rush of _rightness_ to it as she followed the mystical pulling. As the stars shone down on her silver-blonde hair, she walked and walked. At one point she thought to fly, but the minute her wings had lifted her in the air, the feeling of rightness had disappeared, and it hadn’t returned until she had descended from flying amongst the tree branches for her feet to once more make contact with the forest floor.

Dawn was beginning to light the leaves at the height of the branches when Brienne found herself on the edge of the forest. There was a stone cottage directly in her path, and she shied away behind a strange tree when she saw it. There was no sense of Cold Iron coming from the tiny structure; the only sense Brienne could get from the cottage was that it was indeed where her enchanted feet wished for her to go. A wispy tendril of smoke indicated the cottage was occupied. Brienne’s wings buzzed nervously, and if it weren’t for the persistent itching in her feet, Brienne would have never ventured forward. There were stones lining a garden made luscious with plants she hadn’t seen since before the fire that had claimed her mother. Mallow roots, thyme and rosemary surrounded a small pond, and she could see another plot of land with foxgloves and columbines glowing in the young sunlight. In the center of the garden was a sight that made Brienne let out a soft cry. It was barely even a sprout, but there was _her_ elm. Suddenly, she looked down to see a magnificent circle of mushrooms around the whole of the cottage, and there was a smaller ring protecting the baby elm in the center of the garden. She stepped over the first ring of mushrooms, her whole body trembling as she gently moved towards the seedling. If this was an enchantment, she prayed to her mother’s spirit she would never break it.

As Brienne hovered on the edge of this impossible creation, the one man she knew who could deliver such a beautiful gift emerged from the cottage. Jaime was _beautiful_ in the light of dawn, and he cried out when he saw her next to the infant tree. He rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her and burying his head in her neck. Brienne returned his embrace, her wings fluttering against his hand and arms as she found herself weeping.

“What… how... Jaime, I don’t understand!” Brienne sobbed, trembling. He grinned at her through tears of his own, and she reached up to brush them away. Her hands stayed on his face, cradling it tenderly.

“Every single story about faeries I grew up hearing at my mother’s knee said that to capture one, you must steal from it. I just followed their advice.” Brienne frowned, and Jaime’s grin softened to a small tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “There was a seed in the ground at your feet. I took it away with me to create… this. I wanted to give you a chance to ask whatever you will of me once more.” His face was somber as he looked up into Brienne’s glowing blue eyes. “I do not know how our lives will play out, but I do know I would rather waste away than deny you the opportunity to see my life as it should be. At your side.” Brienne kissed him in response, pulling away to step into the seedling’s ring, disappearing from Jaime’s view as her magic filled the new Faerie circle with her essence. Jaime soon followed, stepping into the ring after her. He knelt once more at her feet, gazing up at her with fire burning in his green eyes, _eyes the color of my forest_. “Ask what you will of me, Brienne, and I will give it to you.”

“Stay?” Brienne was surprised to feel no compulsion of magic as she asked him to stay, asked him for his permission to stay, asked him for this magic to stay theirs. Jaime took her hand in his, kissing her palm reverently as he nodded. Brienne pulled him back up to his feet, exchanging her faerie magic for the very human spell of Jaime’s kisses which worked their mystical power to erase her tears and her pain and her loneliness.

Once he had her in his arms, Jaime seemed determined to never let go of Brienne as he showed her just how much detail had gone into this new home for her elm tree. He had formed a door with wooden pegs so she could sit by his side next to the fire. He had ensured the nearest village had no need to visit him unannounced, proudly revealing a small barn with animals to provide him with human nourishment. Brienne made Jaime laugh with joy for the very first time when she wrinkled her nose as he regaled her with the tale of his first attempt to make cheese, and she knew she would spend eternity chasing that sound. Why had none of the stories mentioned how faerie-like human laughter was? She was touched by every facet of this life Jaime had crafted for himself. But nothing, _nothing_ , came close to the sight of her elm’s little off-shoot growing strong in the middle of Jaime’s garden. Everything around her told her Jaime had built something new for himself and for her. From all the ways Jaime had built his cottage to make life with one hand easier (locks and hinges with leather straps to pull them open, a custom well lever to allow him to pull with his arms and not two hands) to the plants meant to strengthen Brienne through hard winters, this corner of the world was filled with _life_. Jaime led her to the edge of the garden and the larger ring of mushrooms. “I don’t want you to ever feel trapped here. If you cannot step outside this ring and walk away, I will haul every stone of this cottage into the center of the forest to be by your side.”

Mere words simply didn’t exist for the joy and relief she felt as she held Jaime’s hand, taking a step outside of the ring. The force that had drawn her to his side was gone, and she knew she would be free to visit both of her trees if she ever wished to. She was not bound to one spot for the rest of her days anymore, and she would have Jaime by her side for as long as he let her. She no longer had to wonder if she would be able to protect Jaime, for he had opened his arms to allow it willingly as a mortal man.

Errant thoughts of the future threatened to break Brienne’s joy as they wandered back to the inner garden and Jaime curled up next to her while she lay next to the small seedling, murmuring archaic words into the soil to encourage it to grow. What _would_ the future look like, truly? Would she be able to use her magic to save Jaime when old age threatened to take him from her? If she could not save him, would she then fade as her father had with no one left to care for the elm in the forest? If they had children, would they be mortal or Fae? She frowned at the doubts plaguing her, but all it took for those doubts to melt away was the sight of her fingers laced with Jaime’s. Her frown faded into a smile. If there were any happy ending to be found, she realized she was right where she was meant to find it: at Jaime’s side.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you not wanting to go back and find the secret message.... every first letter of each paragraph spells out the following  
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> Happy Birthday, BrynnMcK! You are incredible and awesome!


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